


Don't Hold Your Tongue

by ilookedback



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Truth or Dare, implications of more than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilookedback/pseuds/ilookedback
Summary: It’s bordering on disrespectful to the label how quickly they’re downing the scotch. It’s one that should be savored, peaty and complex and fucking expensive. But this whole thing is a little bit not about the liquor at all and a lot about the principle of the thing and their private resentment over the ambassador continuing to block every request they’ve tried to make for what feels like the last six months.And anyway, respect is clearly not of any concern to Steve, sitting as he is in the ambassador’s chair with his feet propped up on her desk. He’s at an odd angle, from Javi’s position on the floor, but he can still see Steve’s bright eyes and lazy-drunk mouth, how his cheeks suck in briefly as he takes a sip of whiskey and rolls it over his tongue to the back of his mouth. He watches his eyes flutter shut and Javi’s reflexes must be impaired because it takes him a second to realize when Steve’s eyes open again and are boring directly into him.“Hey, Javi,” he drawls. “Truth or dare?”
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Comments: 20
Kudos: 167





	Don't Hold Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. No angst and no plot and no spoilers for the show. I asked pajamasecrets for prompts and she suggested _Steve and Javi get drunk and play truth or dare._
> 
> Title is from "Don't Give In" by Snow Patrol, because I wanted to call this fic something other than "Truth or Dare."

Javi’s never noticed before that there’s a diamond-shaped pattern on the ceiling of the ambassador’s office. Maybe because he’s never before been lying on the floor of her office staring up at it. God willing, he never will be again.

This whole thing was Steve’s idea. Javi was just dumb enough to go along with it.

Javier is senior in both age and rank but sometimes he forgets that that means he’s supposed to reign Steve in when he gets like this. Sometimes their interests align and they both want to cut loose at the same time and in the same way, and _sometimes_ , like tonight, that means sneaking into the ambassador’s office after everyone else has gone home and drinking the obscenely expensive bottle of scotch Steve had spotted on her sideboard during a meeting earlier in the day.

It’s bordering on disrespectful to the label how quickly they’re downing the scotch. It’s one that should be savored, peaty and complex and fucking expensive. But this whole thing is a little bit not about the liquor at all and a lot about the principle of the thing and their private resentment over the ambassador continuing to block every request they’ve tried to make for what feels like the last six months.

And anyway, respect is clearly not of any concern to Steve, sitting as he is in the ambassador’s chair with his feet propped up on her desk. He’s at an odd angle, from Javi’s position on the floor, but he can still see Steve’s bright eyes and lazy-drunk mouth, how his cheeks suck in briefly as he takes a sip of whiskey and rolls it over his tongue to the back of his mouth. He watches his eyes flutter shut and Javi’s reflexes must be impaired because it takes him a second to realize when Steve’s eyes open again and are boring directly into him.

“Hey, Javi,” he drawls. “Truth or dare?”

Javi shakes his head. He’s not doing that.

“I’ll go first,” Steve offers. He takes another sip of his drink and lets out a satisfied sigh. “I pick truth. Ask me a question.”

Javi shakes his head again, giving him his best unimpressed look, and Steve swings his feet off the desk and stretches one leg out to nudge his foot against Javi’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

He’s really not doing this so he thinks of the most innocuous question he can, one so pointless it might insult Steve into giving up.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve makes a face but he stops and thinks about it. “Blue. But like, dark blue. Like a medium-dark blue.” He pokes his foot into Javi’s arm again. “Like that shirt you have. That blue shirt is my favorite color.”

There’s a pause. Javi doesn’t have anything to say to that. He’s trying to remember which shirt Steve means and which exact shade of medium-dark blue it is.

“Your turn,” Steve says. “Truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing,” he reminds him.

Steve frowns down at him. “You can’t do that. You already asked me a question, you don’t get to bow out now.”

“I asked you a harmless one,” he says.

“Who says mine won’t be harmless?” Steve protests. “I’m gonna kick you in the head if you don’t play. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says finally, resigned.

“How many women who work in this building have you slept with?”

“Hijo de puta,” he mutters, and Steve laughs, delighted to have gotten a rise out of him. Javi pushes onto his elbows to take a drink of his scotch and thinks about how to answer. He wants to ask Steve how he’s defining _slept with_ but he doesn’t feel like getting into the discussion that would invite. He decides not to count purely hand stuff and rounds down a little and tells him, “Three.”

“Hmm,” Steve says skeptically. “I thought it’d be more.”

Javi shrugs. “Maybe I’m more of a gentleman than you think I am.”

“Right,” Steve snorts. He rubs a knuckle over his eye and takes a breath, about to say something else.

“Truth or dare?” Javi asks, before Steve can interrogate him any further.

“Dare.”

He tries to think of a good one. Thinks back to when he was a kid, since this is an actual children’s game.

“I dare you to streak around the fifth floor.”

“That’s dumb,” Steve protests, but he’s shifting in his seat like he’s unsure. “There’s nobody here.”

“Could be,” Javi shrugs. “If you’re scared, you don’t have to do it—”

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Steve says. He pushes out of the chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m just saying, it’s a waste of a dare ‘cause nobody’s going to see it.”

“I don’t care. You wanted a dare, you got a dare.”

Steve lets out a put-upon sigh but he’s naked by the time he reaches the door, clothes strewn across the floor in a messy trail. He’s a long, tall stretch of pale skin and Javi takes him in just for a second before looking back down into his glass. Steve sticks his head out of the door, peering down the hallway, and then he takes off in a jog and Javi chuckles and empties his glass and lies back, eyes closed, to wait.

The quiet solitude of the room makes him feel a little too drunk and a little maudlin and his thoughts turn briefly to serious questions like _what are they even doing down here_ and _is it making any difference_ and also, now that he thinks about it, _are he and Steve going to be able to find a cab home this late_ since they’re both way past too shitfaced to drive. He opens his eyes again and stares up at the diamond-patterned ceiling and pictures the dismayed expression on the ambassador’s face if she were to find them passed out on her floor come morning. Almost, but not quite, funny enough to be worth it.

It’s not long before Steve returns, flush-cheeked and scrambling to get his pants back on. He stumbles a little and is laughing breathlessly and it makes Javi laugh, too, seeing how his face is glowing with the rush of this low-stakes moment of exhibitionism. Steve attempts the buttons on his shirt but his fingers are fumbling and he quickly gives up and leaves it open, fabric fanning out over his hips when he sinks down on the floor by Javi and props his back against the side of the desk. He tucks one bare foot under Javi’s thigh and chuckles again.

“Shit,” he breathes. “You know if I’d gotten caught and got fired for that you’d be stuck down here all by yourself.”

“That was my plan all along,” Javi tells him.

Steve wiggles his toes under his leg. “No it wasn’t.”

The room goes quiet again. Javi’s hand bumps against Steve’s ankle and he idly circles his fingers around it, under the hem of his pants.

“Your turn,” Steve says. “Truth or dare?”

“We’re still doing this?”

“You owe me, man, you just made me run buck naked through the office. It’s your turn.”

“I’m not running anywhere,” Javi warns him. “Truth.”

Steve is thoughtful for a few breaths, glancing around the room while he considers, before landing his eyes on Javi again. “Have you ever kissed a guy?”

“What?” Javi says, which is a mistake, because not saying no is almost as good as saying yes and now Steve’s eyes are burning into him.

“Yes or no, it’s a simple question,” he says.

Javi wishes he still had whiskey in his glass to swallow the rough feeling out of his throat. He realizes his fingers have gone tight around Steve’s ankle and he lets go and drops his hand to the carpeted floor.

“Yes.”

“I haven’t,” Steve offers. Not exactly a surprise.

“Okay,” Javi says. His brain is too fuzzy and Steve’s expression too calm for him to feel panicked, but he does feel—confused, maybe. Unsure what to say.

“Do you dare me to?”

“What?”

“It’s my turn,” Steve reminds him. “And I want a dare. Do you dare me to?”

“Sure,” Javi says, before he can think too much about it, and it still comes as a surprise when Steve shifts onto his knees and then straddles Javi’s hips and leans down to hover over his face. His expression is determined, overly serious, and it makes Javi laugh, struck by how ridiculous this all is. Steve’s brow furrows but the corner of his mouth lifts up, simultaneously amused and taken aback by Javier’s reaction.

“What are you laughing for?” he asks. Maybe trying to decide if he should be offended.

Javi huffs out another laughing breath. “Just, your face. You looked so serious.”

His face softens and Javi watches as his eyes flick down to Javi’s mouth, back up to meet his gaze again. “I am serious,” he murmurs, and leans in closer. “I want it to be good.”

He kisses him and it is good, it’s nice. His mouth is careful and softer than Javi would have expected, and Javi kisses him back, feeling the strain in the back of his neck from pressing up to meet him. He slips a hand around the back of Steve’s head to pull him closer as he relaxes against the carpet and Steve makes a pleased, surprised sound against his mouth and slides his tongue over Javi’s lips. It’s languid, a slow, easy kiss that moves like it’s got no destination in mind, just the journey of Steve’s tongue slipping into his mouth, stroking against him and drawing back again to allow his teeth to graze lightly over Javi’s bottom lip.

Steve’s body is still miles away from his, hovering over him, and it doesn’t feel right. Javi slides his hand down Steve’s back, grips onto his hip, and tugs him down to press his body into his, a comfortable, heavy weight landing over him.

“Shit,” Steve murmurs. He grinds his hips slowly over Javi’s, letting him feel where he’s starting to go hard just from the kiss. Javi’s pulse speeds up and he’s grateful for the deep breath he’s able to take when Steve drags his mouth away from his and presses his lips along his jawline instead. “Hey Javi,” Steve whispers. “Truth or dare?”

He thinks about it, briefly, and decides he still doesn’t want to risk being dared to do anything that would move him away from this spot. “Truth.”

Steve pulls back a few inches to watch his face carefully, looking thoughtful. His mouth is shiny and plush and Javi wants to kiss him again.

“Truth,” Steve says, considering. “Have you ever gotten off in an ambassador’s office?”

Javi laughs. “I came close once.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

He slides his hands under the loose ends of Steve’s shirt and presses his fingers into the hot skin at the base of his spine. “I don’t know yet.”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face and he leans down and bites at Javi’s lip again. He works his hand into the space between their bodies and rests it on Javi’s belly.

He murmurs Javi’s name in a soft, drawn-out drawl, and wriggles his fingers behind Javi’s belt. “Do you dare me?”

Javi tastes the stolen scotch on his breath and feels the rough carpet against his back and the slide of Steve’s long fingers inching into his pants, the hard length of him pressing against Javi’s hip. He catches sight of the diamond-shaped ceiling tiles out of the corner of his eye and thinks, this might be one of the top five dumbest things he’s ever done, but it might also be one of the best because sometimes life overlaps like that. And he slides a hand up the broad length of Steve’s back to his neck, pulls him in close again, and tells him, “Yes.”


End file.
